


i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet

by kingtumbleweed



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sex Toys, Xeno, doing it wrong, excessive awkward seadweller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingtumbleweed/pseuds/kingtumbleweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being palemates doesn't mean you can't pail, right?  Good thing Karkat is pretty laid-back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to incorrigibleIxoreus for being a damn quality beta.

Kissing Karkat is definitely the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s nothing like kissing Fef ever was, reluctant and chaste; or Vriska, who’d only kiss you so she could bite your lips bloody during your young, abortive attempts at sex. Karkat kisses you like he likes you, like he’s actually cool with lying down on your couch and just kissing on you for a while. He gropes you of his own volition, even, warm hands up under your shirt and touching your hips, ribs, your back. He toys idly with the folded-down ridge of your backfin and puts his tongue in your mouth like he’s claiming territory.

You’re not really sure this is what moirails do—not according to Fef, ever, and Karkat mocks you for wanting to, but he makes out with you all the same. And maybe you’re not really thinking when you press your half-sheathed bulge against his thigh, but he wedges his thigh tighter between your legs and nips your tongue.

He withdraws far enough to huff a short sigh. “You know I have a matesprit, Eridan, and no interest in leaving him.”

“Nothin’ flushed happenin’ here, I swwear on it.” You tilt your head up to kiss more but he deflects you.

“That’s a shitfaced lie, you were practically climbing into my pants.”

You prop yourself on an elbow, shoving your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “Wwas feelin’ a lot you like leadin’ me on then, Kar. Maybe on account a’ all the kissin’.” Your voice is thick and dumb, and that quaver is definitely just arousal and not fear that you’ve driven him off already. If that were the case, you might as well go to Kanaya today and propose she fuck you sideways. With her chainsaw.

Karkat pinches your side. “Do you try to pail all your quadrantmates like a rutting purrbeast, or what? Because,” he snorts, “I’m pretty sure most trolls don’t grind on their palemates.”

His guardedness is getting really annoying. You pinch him back. “I don’t see wwhy not.”

“You’re horny—of course you don’t.” Karkat takes your glasses off, replacing them on top of your head, behind your horns.

“And wwould you leave your moirail cold an’ bereft an’ unfulfilled like this?” You try pouting at him. You’d really like to get back to kissing.

“You’re always cold, sea-dw-weller.” He draws out the word, mocking your accent.

You squint at him, his face fuzzy even at this distance. Despite accusations to the contrary, you actually need your glasses, badly. “Kar, d’you actually hawe a problem wwith pale pailin’ or are you just bein’ a fuckin’ bulgemunch for the fun a’ it?”

You get a condescending pap to the top of your head for that outburst. “I guess I’d have more of a problem with it if you weren’t so cute all ruffled up.”

“Yeah fuck you, howw about we get back to the part where we were gettin’ to grinding?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you don’t get laid because you’re fucking awful at seduction?”

“Hey fuck you, I ain’t had the opportunity to seduce anyone wwho ain’t a concupiscent dewice.” You get your glasses back on in time to catch him making a face that could be nothing but poorly restrained mirth. “Wwhat?”

“Of course you have toys. You would.”

“Fuck off.”

“Maybe that’s why you never have concupiscent partners—you’re way too invested in fucking yourself, w-w-wanity and his reproductive aids!” Karkat’s grin is pure evil.

“No fuckin’ wway, I ain’t about wweird sex fetishes like your creepy matesprit, I hawe a shred a dignity! An’ stop mocking me you codawwful nooklicker!” You mash a pillow into his face and he rolls off the sofa laughing.

He pops right back up, still grinning his shit-eating grin. “You’re just bitter I haven’t licked your crusty sea-salt nook. Really, Eridan?”

“…Really wwhat?” You pause. Frown. Then you thwack him in the face with the pillow again, shouting, “Fuckin’ gross, Kar, I didn’t wwant to know anythin’ about you and Eq.”

“But you’re not denying, you want my mouth on your nook!”

You swing the pillow at him again, but this time he catches it and tugs you off balance, bringing you toppling off the sofa on top of him and oh, you hadn’t realized your bulge is totally unsheathed until now—now that it’s pressed between your bodies and you are totally out of your depth here. All the porn you’ve ever consumed does not account for how one actually gets around to having sex with one’s partner, let alone when that partner is a conciliatory partner. It’s definitely not by idiotic pick-up lines. You found that out by six sweeps.

Karkat leans up and bites your neck, then, and this is the pailing part, you guess. Okay. You run your fingers up under Karkat’s sweater—he is amazingly warm—and brush a thumb over his nipple. When you roll it between your fingers, Karkat makes a husky noise into your neck. You are definitely going to have a mark there, and you think you’re excited about that. And a little panicky. And a lot turned on; your pants are way too tight for this.

“Um.”

Karkat brushes his mouth up your jaw towards your ear. He kisses the edge of an earfin, making you shiver. “You said you had toys?”

“Uh? Y-yeah, I’we got some. You wanna use ‘em?” A little more panicky.

“Show me them. I’ve got an idea.”

 

 

Karkat spends a long time contemplating your not-so-modest collection (a troll’s got needs when his regular concupiscent quadrants are all barren, and you ain’t above taking care of yourself) while he explains his idea and you shift from foot to foot, anticipation and nerves making you fidgety. 

“Hey Kar, wwhat if…”

“What if what?”

You make a point of examining the wall to Karkat’s right. “Wwell, ah, wwhat if you use both?”

“Both what?”

“Your, uh,” you cross your arms, “both one a’ my toys an’ your bulge.”

Karkat turns slowly to look at you over his shoulder, a poorly concealed grin on his face. He snorts. “Isn’t that a bit much for a first time?”

You shrug awkwardly, worriedly with one shoulder. “No? I dunno,” you stumble for a response, “d’you… not wwanna?”

Karkat’s face goes an absurd mockery of sultry as he turns to face you. He hooks his fingers through your belt loops and pulls your hips flush against his. “Hell no, it sounds awesome. So, what…," he tilts his head, thoughtful, "you’re thinking I could tease your ass with the toy, get you all stretched and well-fucked so you’re dripping wet for me? And THEN, you want me to pail you, with the toy still in you? Your nook will be wetter than the basement of your stupid shiphive, and tighter than the stick up the Empress’s ass.”

You are flushed bright purple—you can feel it. “Thanks Kar, you’re killin’ my bulge here.”

Karkat continues undaunted. “Your nook will have to stretch to take my bulge, so far it almost hurts. Maybe it will hurt. You’ll come tight and wet and way overstimulated with your toy and my bulge hot inside you. That’s what you’re thinking?”

Shit, your breathing is heavy, and you are way too aware of his hands on your skin, just under them hem of your shirt. You give him a tiny nod. “Uh, y-yeah. Exactly.” Your bulge is half out and pressed between both your hips, and Karkat has to be aware of it.

Karkat bares his teeth in a grin. “Sounds perfect.” He kisses your chin and turns back to your drawer of toys, patting your bulge. You think about dying of embarrassment.

He chooses a toy of average length, with a gentle swell in the middle of the shaft. It’s one of the vibrating ones. It’ll stay put well, he says. You don’t really care; you just want something, fucking anything in you. Listening to Karkat describe exactly how he plans to fuck you hasn’t exactly done anything to calm you down.

“Do you have lube?”

You nod, and rummage around your other drawers until you find a half-empty bottle. He takes it with a raised eyebrow and a dry, “Wow.”

“Kar, come on.” He lets you drag him close by the sweaterfront and mash your mouth against his, licking at his lips until he finally slides his tongue into your mouth and you think about melting right where you stand. When your bulge is unsheathed, good and goddamn smashed tight in the front of your pants, you tear away and shimmy out of your pants, laying down right where you are, on your respiteblock floor. You spread your knees, curling your hips up in a plea and hoping to god you don’t look as desperate as you feel even as Karkat is kneeling between your legs.

He starts with his hands, which you didn’t think ahead far enough to expect, but he’s thorough, and gentler than you’d like him to be. The first finger is easy, the second he pushes in so tantalizingly slowly you want to hiss your frustration. You whine, and he fucks you with his fingers, and that makes you squirm, gasping and pulling your knees up in hopes of deeper friction. You don’t know what to do with your hands again, so you’re flapping vaguely—stupidly—at Karkat, who only gives you a look of humor, and you bonk the back of your head against the floor, loudly urging him on.

“Fine, fine. Wiggler.” Karkat slicks your dildo with a fresh handful of lube, and spreads your cheeks with one wet hand. At the feel of the tip pressing hard against your waste chute, your bulge twitches your excitement. Dignity, what dignity? You drop your thighs, spreading yourself open further. You actually feel the lips of your nook part with the movement—the air is cold on your wet junk, and you could sob—Karkat is going to take so fucking long to put it in you that you think you might die first. Obituary: Eridan Ampora, eight sweeps, died half-fucked and horny.

Karkat is not actually taking his time, despite your impatience. You can feel yourself opening around the slow, constant pressure of the toy, easing a little further with each breath, until you’ve made it past the widest part and the rest slides right in and wow, it is way different with someone else in control. Your toes curl. Karkat gives it slow drags in and out, rubbing the thumb of his other hand up and down the opening of your nook and you are moaning like a cheap porn star. You rub and grab at your nipples through your shirt for friction and something to do with your hands, watching Karkat work with singular focus on absolutely torturing you. He catches you looking and grins, changing to a shallow twitch of the wrist, the toy bumping quick and hard in you and you feel—oh cod, you can actually feel your nook dripping slick purple genetic material, a sticky strand stretching away when Karkat lifts his hand to lick your fluid off the pad of his thumb. You just about snarl when he stops jiggling the toy, except then he switches it ON and instead you bark with surprise. It feels like your whole body is vibrating, motherfuck, and then he starts that short-thrusting jiggle again and your hips curl and grind and oh fuck, you are never quite able to get off this way, however hard you try.

You fist both hands in your hair. Your voice is horribly high-pitched when you cry, “Kar, get in me,” and he wastes no time unzipping his pants—his bulge is already full and flushed—hooking your knees up over his shoulders, and pushing into you. A long, juddering, keening noise bubbles out of you, and oh fuck ohfuckohfuck you’re stretched tight and his bulge is fever-warm and thicker than you expected but you’re so slick-wet that he slides in without resistance. The stretch stings and then it aches, a deep rich ache; all of you is taut and vibrating and Karkat is thrusting into you like bulges were made to do that and you’re actually screaming with pleasure, gills flared out desperately under your shirt, hands scrabbling everywhere for something or anything at all to just hold onto before you come apart, all your muscles tensing, and, “Harder!” and Karkat slams into you and you come with an undignified shriek, untouched bulge twitching and spasming and your nook is stretched so tight it hurts when you clench down—Karkat snarls at that, pounding you straight through the rolls of orgasm, and then you think he’s coming, too—and sweet hell you never knew you could produce this much slurry, but your groin is drenched.

And then—you lay still, totally punch-drunk for several seconds, then a deep, delicious shudder runs from your pelvis to your pan.

Then everything aches all at once.

“Oh my cod, please take it out. Noww.”

Karkat is already in motion, switching off the vibrator, easing first himself out of you, then back on his haunches easing the toy free and you are bizarrely empty, cold, and wet, and all your bones are jelly and you’re trembling violently all over. “K-Kar.” You can only manage pathetic grasping motions with your hands.

He frowns in alarm, taking your hands. “Are you okay?”

You pull at his hands until he covers your body with his, your knees resting around his hips as he gets it and presses close against you. You cling to his shirt, still panting. He wraps his arms tightly around your chest, kissing your neck, ear, and face and murmuring. For your part, you are mostly babbling shaky invective into his collarbone.

He stops shooshing you when you flop back exhausted, and props himself on his elbow. There is your own cold slurry on your shirt and Karkat’s cooling slurry dripping from your nook; you grimace and complain, and he just laughs, fondling your horns and kissing your face.

It’ll wash out, he says. Once you get off me, you say. In a while, he says. Maybe tomorrow. Jerk, you say, and shut him up with a wobbly pap and pull him down by the hair again to make out until you both fall asleep.


End file.
